Author's Note: Oh yes, early update this week. Nothing else to say other than enjoy^^

Disclaimer: The usual.

III

Crash

Again, it happens

8:35 am.

"Claire, wait!"

But Claire wouldn't listen, wouldn't look back at Leon. She was upset, distraught, broken by every last even that had transpired. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't break now that it was her obligation to remain strong, she had sworn to herself that she'd remain loyal to her brother and would free him from his torment... but all those vows had been shattered to pieces by two simple pieces of news. Claire had always had a very clear mental image of who Chris was and all that was part of him, and feeling how that image was dispelled to be replaced by another was something she couldn't take. It was overwhelming, unbelievable.

"Claire!" A hand caught hold of her arm and came to be face-to-face with Leon, but she immediately swatted his hand away. Leon stopped dead in his tracks, taken aback by her gesture; Claire couldn't care less about what he thought. He couldn't understand, he couldn't, he wouldn't-

"Claire, please..."

"No, Leon!" she protested as she turned her back to him. Her urge to scream that word thousands of times was inevitable; she wanted to let everything out already and not care who the burden fell upon. She wanted someone to listen to her, to help her, to-

"No what, Claire?" he shot back. "You haven't even heard me say anything, for crying out loud!" Leon circled her and searched for her gaze, which she wasn't willing to fix upon his.

But why?

"I know what you're going to say!" Claire exclaimed, shaking her head. "You're just going to try and console me and keep my pain at bay! It's not gonna work! It-it's not…"

Since when was she so reluctant?

"Then what do you want, dammit?" Leon took her by the arms. "Are you willing to lock yourself up again? To keep everything bottled up? Don't make me feel like a fifth wheel, Claire; I just need you to open up! Don't make the same mistake as Chris!"

Claire was momentarily left speechless, gasping in indignation at the mention of her brother's name. That was a very, very low blow, and Leon would pay.

"Don't bring him up into this!" she demanded, stepping away from his hold. But Leon's features only hardened, in a way she hadn't seen before in him. She nevertheless stood her ground, not willing to be deterred by his behavior and demeanor.

"I have every right to bring him up," he stated, his voice low and stern. "I also know him, not as well as you, but I do, and I know how disastrous it can be to keep everything to yourself and not share it when there's help being offered to you. What you achieve is allowing every problem and emotion to gnaw at you, to corrode you to a point where you can't take it anymore!"

"Don't patronize me! I know that perfectly!"

"Then why do you let it happen, huh?" Leon countered, hitting a spot. "Do you want to avoid me so badly? I'm trying to help you!" Something clicked inside Claire, a morbid realization hitting her. Leon reached for her once more, taking her face in his hands. "I just... I just want to get you back, Claire."

She stared at him in surprise. "Get me... back? Wh-what do you mean?" This time she didn't move away, almost tempted to lean into his warm touch. The storm inside her was being calmed, all of her thoughts being rearranged, which was the reason behind her silence and mood swing.

"You've changed, that's what I mean, and... I'm-"

It was clear enough for her, so Claire placed a hand on his chest to keep him from talking. "I understand." She then remained silent, taking Leon's hands in hers as the roller-coaster her emotions had been until now came to a stop. She had to be sensible: she would never allow anything to harm their relationship, not when they'd gone through so much together. Sacrificing it for her selfishness and search for self-pity was a reckless decision, not to mention deadly. In the end, she sighed.

"I'm sorry, I... I never meant to act so strangely. I-I myself didn't know what I was feeling all this time," she told him, leaning into his embrace as she spoke. It felt like morphine calming an aching wound, like rain weakening the flames of a raging fire; in short, better than ever before. She felt him rest his temple against her forehead, something usual of him.

"It's alright. I can't forgive anything that doesn't need to be forgiven," he replied, his voice a bit husky. "You just have to trust me; I myself am a bundle of nerves lately. We need to stick together, y'know, can't leave each other aside."

Claire didn't feel like saying anything in reply; instead she remained there, in Leon's arms, finding confidence and hope. She was smart; she knew better than to harm him in any way. They couldn't break apart; not now, not ever. But now, the one who broke down was her, like a building crumbling down. Tears she had held back finally flowed.

"I'm scared, Leon..." she told him, opening up like both of them wanted her to do. "I want to get him back so badly but I'm not strong enough... I even hesitated when I had to pull the trigger." Images of said action flashed through her mind again, reminding her of the despair she'd been seized by before the prospect of shooting her own brother to, ironically, protect his nemesis. That would surely go as a grudge for Chris.

"You can't cower behind a brick wall when it comes to emotions, especially not like you've been doing these days," Leon replied, stroking her hair. "It hurts, it always hurts, but I can tell you that it always hurts the most when you can't feel the pain. Face it with integrity; you can't lose yourself to this."

Claire nodded, releasing a sigh to calm herself down. Leon was right; most of the time, he was. "Thank you... I needed this."

"Everybody needs it once in a while; don't worry," he told her, affectionately rubbing her back. That had always instilled relief in Claire and it didn't fail this time either. His words brought Chris' image to his mind and made her curse the many times she hadn't been by his side. Of course, she wasn't to blame because of his long absences swathed in secrecy, but she nevertheless regretted it.

She had to get him back. She would.

"Managed no word out of him?"

Jill spun around, slightly startled by Sherry's sudden appearance, and nodded in disappointment. "None."

Sherry tucked her hands inside her pockets and shrugged, smiling somehow wistfully. "You know how much he likes bottling things up, but that'll come to bite him in the ass one day, that's for sure." Jill couldn't help a smirk at that remark, finding herself agreeing with it. "He's been acting very strange lately and he won't talk to me either. He's or superficial or silent like a tomb; he doesn't stray from that lane."

"He hasn't sleep at all these three nights, not even for thirty minutes," Jill told her, unsure of whether Sherry knew about that or not. "He always goes out if it happens. It's an habit in him to stroll at night if he can't sleep, but three nights in a row... It's not normal."

Jill placed herself next to Sherry, who didn't break eye contact with her. "He did mention restless sleep, but nothing more. I wouldn't like to say it's nightmares which keep him from sleeping."

"Nightmares?" Jill winced at the pang of worry that struck her chest. "Not that I think he's immune to them, but I never thought they'd be so recurring in him. He's told me of a few, very random, but not in such a constant pattern." She frowned at Sherry. "Do you have any idea of the reason behind it?"

Sherry clearly hesitated, then shook her head. "No... not a very solid one, at least."

Cocking an eyebrow, Jill pressed on, "So you have it, be it slight or not? If that's the case, I have to know; I need to crack a hole in his defenses, find what's going on."

Sherry's features mellowed somehow, a faint smile on her lips. "He'll most likely tell you first rather than me," she remarked, her tone wistful and concerned, "but I understand that. Jill... I've spent almost half of my life by his side and I've never ever seen him like this. Sure, he could've shown himself to be upset a few times or bothered by something that had gone wrong, but this state is different."

I'll say; he's snappier by the minute.

"Please, do me a favor and help him in whatever way you can."

Jill, taken aback by such a request, grew slightly suspicious. "...You trust me?"

"Wesker hardly ever trusts anyone," Sherry said. "I can see he's placed an unimaginable amount of faith and trust in you though, so I don't see why I should do otherwise. I'm not getting carried along; it's just that my trust in you has grown stronger."

"Alright, thank you," Jill spoke with a kind nod. Sherry returned the nod and stepped back into her office, inviting Jill inside once more. There, she asked, "So what's that idea you have?"

"He's told you about the Wesker Children project, hasn't he?" Sherry asked in return. Jill nodded. "He must've also told you that he has random memories of his past, events that seemingly have no sense but in reality they do." Jill nodded once more. Sherry fell silent, turned her gaze away from her. "When I got him back from Africa and whilst he was convalescent after the many surgeries, I received several pieces of evidence that proved a single fact, a fact that changed it all: he suffered from amnesia. Little by little, he started remembering you, Chris and my father among others; he began to place bits and pieces of his past together... but it wasn't until I mentioned -or rather, he found out- something about Spencer that his memory came back."

"All of it?" Jill inquired, stepping closer.

Sherry shook her head. "Only those memories he was aware he had, nothing more."

"So he didn't get back any information about himself aside from the one he knew?" The idea of such fact frightened Jill. "God..."

"If something's gnawing at him, my bet would be repressed memories, maybe even faux ones," Sherry stated, her voice firm but also worried. A tickling sensation went down Jill's chest, which then settled as a knot in her stomach. She knew and remembered Wesker had told him his life had been mostly manipulated, every action leading him a step closer to Spencer, but if that manipulation also involved repressed memories... then she didn't dare imagine how horrible those could be.

"But why would he repress his own memories? Did he want to escape his past that badly?" Jill asked Sherry, who shook her head again.

"That's not what I meant. I'd also wager those memories weren't self-repressed; they forced him to forget so that he believed he had always been and would be like he was. Perhaps they even made him believe he had no past at all," Sherry corrected. Jill couldn't stifle a gasp. "Spencer must've made sure of that. After all, Wesker was the most brilliant of them all, with a potential nobody expected."

"Spencer didn't want him to go rogue," Jill realized in shock. "That vile son of a..." She looked up at Sherry. "So you think it's due to that? Memories that are haunting him again?"

"That'd be my guess, yeah." Sherry sighed. "I've tried to discuss this with him, but he never said anything about it. Either he really doesn't know or he's hiding it; whichever it is, you'll have to find out." It was in that moment that Jill realized how Sherry was placing herself at her own level. "Please, keep an eye out on him for me, will you? I... I only have him left."

Jill approached Sherry and laid a hand on her shoulder, which made the Birkin lift her gaze up at her. Jill had just seen a photograph of her father, William, but she could tell both Sherry and him had always had the hopeful gaze Sherry had right then. She was hoping Jill would do something, and she understood: Wesker had been the link that had kept the family both together and apart. Having in mind what had happened to Sherry back in Raccoon City, it was acceptable that if Wesker had never been there for her, she wouldn't have survived.

"I will, don't worry."

Sherry smiled. "Thank you."

"I'll let the day go by; I don't want to storm in and raise suspicion," Jill said, leaving the offer hanging in the air. "I'll talk to him at night; perhaps then I'll get something out of him."

Jill also smiled then, and she didn't know why.

"He owes me a few answers too, after all."

Her voice sounded so distant, so faint, like a deafening cacophony. His vision was still spinning and blurry, his body felt like the heaviest rock in the world, and he felt as if his brain had been disconnected from his body. He had only regained awareness, he soon understood, but not mobility; he was still bound by numbness' shackles and there was no way he could break free of them.

Whose voice had he heard in some corner of his mind? It was so very familiar, a sweet and caring tone he hadn't heard in a very long time. Had it really been like that though? Had he really spent that long without hearing her, without hearing anything? When had been the last time since she had seen her, for that matter? He felt tempted to remember, to smile when remembering her image.

Something was wrong though.

"CHRIS!"

And Chris convulsed in agony.

XX

Chris himself did nothing but scream, the pain tearing his heart and soul to pieces. No more memories, no more pain, no more nothing, but his requests fell on deaf ears. Would this be his punishment, crueler than Hell's flames?

If he had control over his mind, then why couldn't he stop the flow of images?

"Let me go! Why? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

BECAUSE I CAN!

XX

It is in man's nature to be good; society corrupts him... "Well, I'm the new one here. Jill Valentine."... Determination leads you to your goal... "Heh, what can go wrong this time? We're pros, remember?"... Seek and ye shall find... "You son of a bitch!"... One blow after the other, it never ends... "We keep going..."... Sometimes wishing for death is inevitable... "He's still out there..."... An endless tunnel with no light... "We'll make it through this, Jill, I promise..."... One step behind your enemy... "He's still ahead of us! It's no use, Chris!"... Giving up is sometimes the better choice... "Let's do this, for everyone, for us."... Lacking means is tantamount to failing...

Power.

XX

I'm not going to let you go. Didn't I tell you I could put you up to a punishment worse than Hell itself? I can manipulate you, I can manipulate your imagination to extents you can't grasp, and that's my advantage. And for the record, you yourself accepted this: THIS is the risk it entails. You can't escape it, not even if you almost pulled the trigger on yourself; it's useless.

"B-But why do I have to forget? I don't want to! DON'T FORCE ME!"

I will force you if it's necessary; do you think I'm going to let you get away with this? Don't YOU force your opinions on me because I will argue if I don't like them... and THIS is how I argue, Chris.

One step behind your enemy... "He's still ahead of us! It's no use, Chris!"... Giving up is sometimes the better choice... "Let's do this, for everyone, for us."... Lacking means is tantamount to failing...

Power.

Rebecca had never expected something like a letter at this time.

She had been alone in her room, tempted every second that went by to resort to Valium or Lexotan to calm her nerves. Pacing and then lying down had been her best bet, a procedure she had followed with no problem; she had also dozed off for a few minutes. When she woke up, walked to her small suitcase and fished a jacket out, something had fallen out of its pocket at the same time she was putting it on. Rebecca picked the object up, a sheet of paper folded four times, and quickly zipped up her jacket before proceeding to read it.

The same moment she saw the handwriting, she froze in her spot.

It was Chris's handwriting.

For a moment she hesitated, took the paper out of her sight before her heart started pounding again, but then shook her head hastily: she had to pull through; she couldn't hide in the broom closet forever. Then, tentatively, she unfolded the paper again and started reading, a lump in her letter read as such, some words crossed out or blurred:

I really hope you find this, Rebecca. There's nobody else I can address at the moment.

I don't know what's gonna happen to me now that I'm changing, I really don't, but you should know that it'll be difficult for you to trust me; I even doubt you'll take this letter seriously. I'm writing at full pelt because I've managed to turn back to myself, but I sense it won't be for long. I just have to tell you that I'm insane: I know I'm literally losing my mind.

I need your help. Marco and I will move to (22-5-14-9-3-5) shortly, so that's where you've got to go. I need your help; I need everyone's help. Whenever you can, tell Jill that she's my only hope of surviving this ordeal, so is Claire. They're the only ones who can truly help when it comes to my mind; they're my sole links to sanity. I keep trying to forget about them but I realize that's not what I have to do. It hurts, it hurts so much.

Please, Rebecca, be quick. I don't know how much I've got left.

It wasn't signed; it didn't even have a date, so it was difficult to know when he'd written it.

Rebecca gasped, taking a hand to her mouth and fighting back another wave of tears. It was true; Wesker had been right.

They were in for one hell of a ride.

Tears came, flowing almost in a frenzy. He sensed the painful pangs of regret and nostalgia, the ardent desire to return to the world and escape from his own, which was always in darkness that pulled him down into its maw. A childish way of wanting something took hold of him: he wanted to be there with them, back with those who had been his friends, his life... a life he had wasted in selfish obsession. He missed them, Chris missed them so much...

What about what you want? Nothing ventured, nothing gained! You're about to get yourself back, don't you realize that?

"But why does getting myself back means reconstructing myself? I'm-I'm not broken!" Sobs racked his body; it was impossible to hold back sorrow. "I... I want this to end, I want to be myself again..."

Don't be childish! If you want something, you must GO FOR IT! It won't come to you so easily!

XX

As their mouths parted, Jill nudged her nose against his, which caused him to enter a blissful state of obliviousness to everything.

He was left only to focus on Jill's face, her hair, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips; on Jill and everything she was.

XX

Remembering, are we? Focus on what you have at hand! Leave them BEHIND!

But Chris couldn't, not when his yearning to turn back triggered feelings he had long thought forgotten, lost in oblivion to be replaced by stronger ones, but they were feelings that were nonetheless no match for those that Chris felt resurfacing within him.

And the mix was driving him literally insane.

Annihilate what threatens to destroy you.

"No..."

It's their memory which is tearing you apart! KILL THEM and it will truly be over!

"I CAN'T DO THAT!" Chris yelled out, wrapping his arms around his stomach in an attempt to console himself. "It's not... I can't... Th-they're my life..."

They're OBSTACLES in it, nothing more.

"No..."

Then you've already failed.

A/N: Some of us are already losing our marbles, eh? xD We'll get to Wesker in the next chapter, and I'm also introducing the surprise character I should've introduced in DoU's extra epilogue... but didn't appear because of time restraints. I hope it's all going good so far x3

Reviews are appreciated!^^

PS: Is it good to have only six chapters and have 41 pages in total? (which makes a good lot of 29,508 words) xDD